"Possibly."
The officer was not the brightest member of the force, and believing that
he had been sold by the old man who had pretended to be a detective, the
guardian of the night returned to the bar-room, partook or another horn
of brandy, and then passed out upon the street.
"Sold!" he muttered, angrily, as he strode from the dangerous vicinity.
Meantime what _had_ occurred to detain Silas Keene so long?
CHAPTER XI.
ENTRAPPED!
When Silas Keene, the New York detective, entered the bar-room, his
glances met no familiar face. The tramp had been thoroughly described to
Keene, so that he felt that he should know the fellow the moment his
glances fell upon him.
The detective did not know that his man was on the lookout for him.
It will be remembered that a man had been listening through an open
window to the conversation between the detective and August Bordine in
the early morning.
That man was no less a personage than Andrew Barkswell, whose strong
resemblance to the young engineer had so complicated affairs.
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